Skin Deep: Part III
by Rowena Zahnrei
Summary: Torn from his friends and loved ones by an ancient Preserver tunnel, Data discovers a terrible conspiracy. The close alliances that forged the United Federation of Planets are breaking down, paving the way for the Federation's enemies to shift the balance of power. Working undercover and facing impending war, can one android make a difference? Can his impossible dreams be realized?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ , _Star Trek:_ _Deep Space 9, Star Trek: The Original Series_ or Kurak, who appeared in the ST:TNG episode _Suspicions_. But, the children (Ishta, Kahlestra and Mikey), the robot, Howard, and the archaeologists (Freja Anders, Nat Kapoor, Tu'Pari and Melinda Baker) are all my original characters, as are the Boss-man/Father, Silarra, and most of the other assorted baddies in this story. Please don't sue me or steal my story. Thanks! 😊

 **NOTE:** This is my 90th story on this site! Can you believe it? The big 90! This story takes place shortly after the movie _First Contact_. It is a direct continuation of _Skin Deep: Part I_ and _Skin Deep: Part II_.

 **Continuity Note** **:** This is the concluding segment of a three-part story, each with its own challenges and featured 'bad guy'.

 **Recap - The Story So Far (SPOILER ALERT)** **:**

In **_Part I_** , Captain Picard, Riker, Troi and Data joined an archaeological team, planning to spend their two-week shore leave riding horses and studying mysterious ruins on the desert world, Nineveh IV. There Data, who had been struggling to come to terms with his capture by the Borg and his identity as an emotional, non-human being, decided to share his 'true face' with his friends. He removed his durable bioplast sheeting to reveal his mechanical substructure, aiming only to be his rawest, most personal self for a few hours. Before he had a chance to replace his outer covering, though, Data was abducted by what appeared to be an Orion black market Skin trafficking ring. With the help of a duotronic robot named Howard and three children - Ishta, an Orion teenager; Kahlestra, the daughter of the Klingon scientist Kurak; and Mikey, a sickly human boy – he escaped and, after facing down ground quakes, sandstorms, and a lethal speeder chase, the little group made it back to the archaeologists' compound.

In **_Part II_** , while Picard and Riker focused on the archaeological mystery of an ancient Preserver energy source still operating beneath the ruined Stairway of Sawrina the Great, Data, Troi and Dr. Crusher tried to help the children Data had rescued from the Orion Skin dump. Feeling a little more sure of himself after his adventure, Data decided to trade in his old bioplast sheeting for sensitive, state-of-the-art synthetic skin. But the android did not have much time to adapt. Crusher's investigation into the cause of Mikey's illness indicated the illegal use of genetically-targeted bioweapons along the Cardassian / Federation border. At the same time, Silarra, a Suliban spy with a talent for disguise, infiltrated the archaeologists' compound, aiming to recapture the escapees and nab the mysterious energy source for her 'Boss'. Viewing Data as her primary obstacle, she played on his emotions, manipulating him into initiating a romantic relationship with the Klingon scientist Kurak in a bid to keep him distracted and out of her way. After discovering how the Suliban had schemed to deceive him, compromise his reputation, and steal the Preserver energy source, Data raced against time - and violent ground quakes - to confront the chameleon spy in the crumbling tunnels beneath the Stairway...

And, that is where this story begins.

 _Now, without further ado, I hope you'll enjoy:_

 **Skin Deep: Part III**

 **by Rowena Zahnrei**

Chapter One

"This is the second time you've let us down, Kertz," the Romulan officer warned, his dark eyes menacing as he leaned in closer to the screen. "Some are speculating you may have an ulterior motive in this game. That your operation has, perhaps, been compromised."

"Oh, please." The Boss-man snorted and leaned back on his red sofa, his wide brimmed hat keeping his features masked in shadow. "Don't you Romulans get enough conspiracy and corruption on your own world? Now, you must project your paranoia onto me?"

"If I'm wrong, then where is the merchandise you promised us," the Romulan demanded. "And what of this 'ancient energy source' you've touted and teased this past week? If you think such an obvious con can get you back into our good graces—"

"You've seen the recordings," the Boss-man countered, his low hiss an unsettling counterpoint to the Romulan's booming anger. "That damned Federation android stole my goods, destroyed my property, and now—"

"Enough."

A female voice sounded from the dimness behind the Romulan officer, her own image well out of the frame of his viewscreen. The Boss-man snarled, his shadowy form seeming to sink deeper into his clothes.

"Commander," the Romulan said, starting to rise. "I—"

"Stay where you are," she said, and he sat back down. "This won't take long."

"Commander," the Boss-man acknowledged the off-screen voice. "I was just telling your impudent lackey, here, how I have been the unfortunate victim of—"

"Spare me your excuses," she snapped. "Your operation was contacted for one purpose, and one purpose only. If you cannot now deliver, then we have nothing to discuss."

"Nice bluff," the Boss-man sneered. "But, we both know, I hold the winning hand here. You won't walk away, because I have what you need. My Cardassian agents assure me, replacement merchandise is on its way, even as we speak. And I can give you my personal guarantee: this time, the full order will go through."

"What makes you so sure?" she demanded.

The Boss-man leaned forward, the lights around him making his bleach-white suit seem to glow.

"My chameleon may have missed her mark," he said, "but her blunder with that energy source did manage to serve one purpose. Whether she vaporized herself or got crushed to death when the tunnels beneath the ancient Stairway collapsed, all reports agree: when she went, she took that interfering android out with her. The handful of Feds still at the site are so tied up trying to solve his 'disappearance', they wouldn't notice if a fleet of ships entered orbit, let alone a single Maquis shuttle. So, lower your shields, Commander, and trust in Father's promise. When the merchant ship arrives, there'll be nothing to get in our way."

"You say the android is dead?" the woman said.

"Deactivated, destroyed – whatever term you choose, he's not here, and that's good enough for me," the Boss-man said.

There was a long moment of silence on the Romulans' end. So long, the officer on the viewer glanced warily over his shoulder, giving the Boss-man and his busy staff of slaves a full-screen view of his pointed ear.

"We'll keep to the deal, exactly as stated," the woman said at last. "But, I warn you not to be so cocky. I've seen that android in battle. His cunning is not to be underestimated."

The Boss-man gave a dismissive wave of his white-gloved hand.

"What are you saying - that a machine would fake its own destruction? On an a middle-of-nowhere, dried-up rock like this? For what reason?" He snorted a laugh. "There are no battles here, Commander. Beyond that, my chameleon's reports indicate the most the android ever suspected of my operation was a small-scale Orion smuggling ring. Which is all any outsider was ever meant to suspect. So, you see? My safeguards remain in place."

"Just the same, I don't trust this news," the woman said grimly. "If that android is alive…"

"It wouldn't matter," the Boss-man said. "Not in the long run. So calm down, sit back, and watch the Federation news feeds. That'll reassure you – the plan's already taken on a life of its own. Like I said at the start: my secrets know how to guard themselves."

 _To Be Continued..._

* * *

 _Welcome to Part III! I want you to know, your reviews really mean a lot. I've got so much plot-stuff tornado-ing around in my head, but your comments and reactions on each chapter help me process and design the emotional arcs for this story. Your input really matters to me - it's like, I'm working to build this crazy-complex roller-coaster while it's moving and I gotta know if you're there, enjoying the ride along with me - so please let me know what you think._ _ _Thanks so much for reading, and stay tuned for more on this, and my other stories, coming soon!_ :D_


	2. Chapter 2

_What the heck happened to Data between the end of Part II and the Special Preview I put up over at Skin Deep: Part I? Well, it's time to start finding out. Here is:_

Chapter Two

Data squeezed and climbed his way through the collapsed tunnel beneath the ruined Stairway, his boots and clothing scraping against uneven rocks and rubble. Dust and sand rained down in choking clouds, sticking to the sweat beading on his synthetic skin as he moved through the near-pitch darkness. He panted and coughed, his newly sensitive respiratory system fighting to keep his throat and lungs clear and his internal temperature steady despite the stifling heat. But he kept going, kept pushing forward, his drive to find and stop the Suliban intruder overriding his caution…the terror of being crushed, trapped, buried alive beneath the sands of Nineveh IV…

"Shut-up," the android told his turbulent thoughts, efficiently filing and locking away the awful scenarios his fears sent flashing through his positronic mind: losing his chance to build a future…to keep his promises to Ishta and the other children he'd rescued…to grow the warm connection he'd found with the Klingon scientist Kurak… "Concentrate. Remember why you are here. If the Suliban mercenary who infiltrated our compound should manage to deliver the Stairway's energy source into enemy hands, if the Romulans or Cardassians should learn to operate the Preservers' quantum tunnel, the established timeline – all of history – could be vulnerable to their self-serving manipulations. The Federation, everything we are, could be wiped from existence…as if we had never been…"

Fallen debris from the recent ground quake had blocked Data's access to the cavern housing the opalescent wall that had shielded the Stairway's mysterious energy source for thousands upon thousands of years. But the android could hear movement beyond the rubble, his sensitive ears picking up a woman's frustrated grunts, hisses and swears.

That confirmed the Suliban had survived, that she was still there, inside the cavern. He had to find a way through to her, without collapsing what remained of the tunnel.

Data stepped back and tilted his head from side to side, running his optic sensors through the entire electromagnetic spectrum as he analyzed the best way to approach the blockage. Determining it would be fastest to melt the loose rock into a new arch, then vaporize the rubble near the center of the obstruction, Data pulled out his phaser and got to work. A dampening field was in operation in the tunnel and the chamber beyond, indicating the ancient energy source was still in place and functioning. Unfortunately, its effects reduced the strength of his phaser beam and left Data feeling distressingly weak and headachy. Still, he kept working, kept listening, dividing his attention between acoustically tracking the Suliban's movements and the task at hand until slowly, slowly, he began to break through…

"I told you," he overheard the Suliban say, "I'm in the cavern right now. The energy thing you want is right in front of me. I just need more time to find the frequency—"

A male voice sounded through a crackle of comm unit static, low and snake-like. "I'm not interested in your excuses, Silarra. Only in what you can deliver."

"Then get off the damn comm and let me work!" the Suliban snapped. "There's crazy interference in here, you have no idea. I'm going to try the transporter again, and I'll get back to you when I'm good and ready. Until then, consider this channel blocked!" She cut communications and growled, "… _bastard_ …"

"Transporter…" Data repeated, his amber eyes widening as his brain's computer-quick calculations prompted a terrible realization. "Silarra, no!" he exclaimed and burst through the narrow opening he'd carved, ducking low to avoid contact with the glowing rock above his head. "Do not attempt to activate your transporter! You may inadvertently trigger—"

The Suliban turned and shot a super-heated plasma beam straight at him. Faster than human thought, Data ducked and rolled out of the way, staring in aghast amazement at the branching pattern of molten glass the beam had left in the sand where he'd just been standing.

"Stay out of my way, android," she snapped. "Or my next shot brings the ceiling down on your head!"

Realizing the high probability that she might actually carry out that threat, Data slapped his combadge, hoping the dampening field would allow some word, some record of events to get through to his colleagues…the friends he had left waiting outside…

"The energy source cannot be dislodged from its housing," he told the Suliban, keeping his voice as steady and forceful as he could manage. "You must not try to approach it again."

"I know what I'm doing," Silarra snapped, keeping her plasma weapon trained on the dangerously fissured concrete just above him as she inched through the narrow opening in the opalescent Preserver wall. Streaks and flashes of crackling energy lit the darkened space beyond, twisting and braiding into complex colored patterns that branched and faded far too quickly for the naked eye to follow.

"You do not know, or you wouldn't be doing this!" Data countered, his growing fear for her safety injecting his shouts with tangible desperation. "Silarra, please listen to me! You will destabilize—"

A violent blast of colored light forced the android to blink and shield his eyes. Silarra shrieked, and Data dashed after her into the crackling space, hunching his shoulders against the onslaught of hissing, sizzling energy closing in all around him. The air in there was difficult to breathe, he _felt_ his hair rise all over his body, his skin begin prickle and itch, but he didn't have time to analyze these uncomfortable new sensations. Squinting through the branching, braiding light, he focused in on Silarra's silhouetted form, saw her crawling beneath the energy arches, reaching through the snapping whips of electricity—

"No!" he gasped, struggling to force his way through the swirling storm of power and light, to get to her before she could make contact with the energy source. Ducking low, he could just see it, pulsing like a living heart at the center of the rising maelstrom. "Silarra!" he yelled, barely able to hear his own cries over the humming, crackling turbulence. "Silarra! Don't touch the—!"

A bolt of blue lightning struck the Suliban mercenary, engulfing her in its blazing heat. For a fleeting instant, Data saw her flash-charred body, still a coherent whole, until the wind increased and her form disintegrated into wild swirls of dust.

Choked by a surge of horror, Data tried to back away, covering his nose and mouth with the collar of his jacket. But, something held him in place; an overwhelming force he could feel but couldn't see. A dark vortex opened above the pulsing energy source, the wind twisting, forming into a whirring funnel suffused with braiding, crackling arcs of color that closed tight around him, entrapping the android like a fish in a net, binding his limbs, squeezing the air from his lungs until he couldn't breathe, he couldn't scream…

* * *

Data jolted back to conscious awareness in a totally unfamiliar environment. Lurching into a sitting position, he blinked and rose slowly to his feet, his mouth falling open as he scanned his eyes over his surroundings.

The readout from his internal diagnostics claimed everything was normal which, given the circumstances, might have sent him into a spate of incredulous giggles…if not for the unnerving silence all around him.

He seemed to be standing on one of perhaps infinite steps. The steps seemed to be floating, unattached and unsettlingly translucent, yet together they formed a vast, spiraling stairway. There was no clear edge to these stairs, no railing, no sense of beginning or end. And, though the stair he was on seemed firmly stationary, there was a sense of movement around him…odd, undefined swirls and eddies that glittered and fizzed through a dim haze of sourceless light.

Looking down at himself, Data saw the dirt from the collapsed tunnel still clung to his clothes, his skin. He ran a hand through his hair, wiped the sweat and grit from his face, noting that he still seemed solid, the various rhythms of his android systems still pulsing away, just as they should.

"I don't think that I am dead," Data mused, his soft whisper like a thunderclap in this strange place. "Could I have been pulled into the Preservers' Stairway? Is this peculiar landscape my mind's attempt to interpret their quantum tunnel? And if so…how the hell do I get back?"

Data pulled out his tricorder, but the readings were hopelessly scrambled. Frustrated, he slipped the device back into its holster and looked around, weighing his options. Options that basically boiled down to a choice between staying put and attempting to climb the Stairway.

Data chose to climb.

The smooth, glass-like stairs all looked exactly the same. To make sure he'd be able to identify the one he'd been standing on should he need to return, Data moved his combadge to his shirt, took off his dusty jacket, folded it neatly, and set it down beside him. Then, cautiously, he climbed up to the next step.

An odd sensation rippled through him the moment he began to move. He looked up to see a row of ghostly figures had telescoped out in front of him, one on each step, each frozen in a slightly different pose like a collection of paper dolls. Turning around, Data saw a similar effect stretching out behind him, only this time he could see the figures' faces.

Or rather, face. A face that changed in appearance from realistically human; to metallic with red, green and yellow blinking lights; to pale, white-gold the further back he looked.

"A time-snake," he realized with a startled gasp. "My time-snake. These images must represent slices of time, illustrating my own movements from past to present to future."

Looking around, he realized the flashing, fizzing swirls and eddies had changed as well, intensifying to the point where he could just make out faint impressions of other spiraling stairways, each with dozens, hundreds, millions of branches appearing and fading all around him, all sporting their own telescoping time-snakes.

"Might this be a representation of alternate timelines? Visions of probability…of choices I have made, or am yet to make?"

There was no answer, but the longer he looked, the more braids and branches he saw until he began to feel uncomfortably insubstantial and light-headed. Focusing back on his own stairway, Data climbed to the next step, then the next…taking the place of, then passing through, the hazy images he found there. As he climbed, he noticed a soft glow limning the edge of each step he passed. A glow remarkably similar to a transporter pad at the very beginning of a transport cycle.

"Hm. I wonder…"

Data edged cautiously closer to the edge of the next stair, hoping it wouldn't tip or unbalance as he shifted his weight away from the center. Fortunately, the translucent strip remained firmly flat. But as he reached the edge, the glow seemed to intensify, rising like a misty haze to reveal a series of dream-like apparitions. He saw his pet cat, Spot, being stroked and fed by his best friend, Geordi La Forge; Captain Picard and Counselor Troi standing in his quarters aboard the _Enterprise-E_ , looking at the display case where he kept his medals. They seemed to be talking, but the images were fading and he couldn't see, couldn't hear…

"Oh, god…" the android gasped, his emotions reeling as he rushed back through his ghostly doubles down to the step where he'd left his jacket. As he fought to calm himself, to slow his breathing, his mind went to a play he'd performed once for the captain, Charles Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_ , and the words Ebenezer Scrooge had spoken to the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.

"'Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of the things that May be only?'" he quoted. "And if they are real…is there a way to pass through? Could these steps be portals back to reality? Each leading to a different point along my own timeline? Or, are they merely mirages, impressions of my own fears reflecting back at me…?"

Without his tricorder, there was no way to gather the data he required, no way to test his shaky hypotheses. Not without actually attempting to walk off the edge of the step and into the haze beyond.

"No. No way. That is not something I am prepared to do. Not yet," he said, an involuntary shiver raising goosebumps on his arms. He rubbed them and turned a full, frustrated circle on the step, turning his gaze straight up…

Something was watching him. Something nebulous and insubstantial, but very definitely real. Data blinked and staggered in alarm, but managed to keep his balance on the step.

"Who are you?" he queried the barely visible something. "How long have you been observing me?"

The something pulsed and glimmered and Data felt an odd impression down deep in his brain…a wordless sense of intense curiosity he found he could somehow translate.

"No," he answered out loud. "I am not one of your children. Though…I suppose you might say, I am the child of your children's ingenuity." He snorted a very slight laugh. "Might that make me your grandchild?"

The something glimmered in delighted amusement, and Data had to smile.

"Did your people create this quantum tunnel?" he asked.

A host of nonverbal sensations flooded his brain, and Data clapped his hands to his head, struggling to make sense of the onslaught. As he did he made a mental note to ask Deanna if this intensely invasive contact was anything like the experience of Betazoid telepathy.

The something seemed to realize its approach was too strong and quickly pulled away. Suddenly terrified that he'd be left alone, Data reached out, desperate to call it back.

"Do not leave me! Please!" he cried. "If you are a descendant of the Preserver species, if you do indeed represent what they have since evolved to become, then you know that I do not belong here. If you could please assist me – tell me what I must do to return to my own place in time—"

A surge of fond pity washed through his mind, and the glimmering something sank down to envelop him. As it faded, Data realized he knew what he had to do. Slipping on his jacket, he dashed up several steps, strode off the Stairway's glowing edge…

And stepped onto the busy, bustling bridge of what appeared to be a Federation starship.

"Captain!" the security officer alerted, her phaser already trained on the unexpected newcomer.

"What the—" The captain scowled. "Just who the hell are you, mister, and what are you doing on my bridge?"

Data blinked helplessly, staring from one unfamiliar face to another, noting the strange cut and colors of their uniforms, the sleek shape of the security officer's weapon…

"Oh my…oh, god..." the operations officer stammered, standing and moving closer on slightly shaky legs. "Oh my god…Data? Data, is that really you? But…but how…!"

"Commander, do you know this man?" the captain demanded, and the officer nodded, his awed gaze turning from his scanner's unmistakable readings to the android's dust-streaked clothes and hair, his wide amber eyes…

"Yes, sir. I believe so," he told her. "It would seem…utterly impossible! But, if I'm right, this man – this officer – has been missing for over thirty years."

A rippling murmur broke out among the bridge crew. Data shook his head in incomprehension, feeling a chilling lurch in his digestive tract, as though the deck had suddenly vanished beneath his feet.

"Thirty…?" He swallowed hard, fighting to stay calm, to keep control… "No… But...how… Who…?"

The operations officer hurried to support the swaying android, placing a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't expect you to recognize me," the man said kindly. "But, you saved my life, Commander. My name is Mikey. Lt. Commander Michael Sean Applewood."

 _To Be Continued..._

* * *

 _References include - TNG: Time's Arrow I/II; Devil's Due; The Measure of a Man; Justice; the TNG novel Metamorphosis; Star Trek: First Contact; TOS: All Our Yesterdays; A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens._

 _I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know what you think! :D_

 _Thanks so much for your comments and reviews! :D_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Counselor Deanna Troi strode into Kurak's lab, only to pause by the door, her eyes widening as she stared around at the busy wall panels and blinking consoles.

She'd seen the dome after the raiders' attack on the compound – a scorched out husk of sparks, fallen debris and charred metal, the walls scarred by phaser burns…

And, while a faint stench of stale smoke and melted plastic still lingered in the air, Troi found herself amazed at the extent of the repairs Data and Kurak had managed to accomplish together in so short a time.

The Klingon scientist raised her head, her dark eyes like volcanic glass beneath the shadow of her long, wavy hair. She'd been hard at work, leaning over the central console, her hands flying over the keypad, but she straightened when she saw Troi.

"You've come for Ishta."

It wasn't a question, but Troi nodded.

"I'm afraid so. We just got word that the social worker's shuttle has received permission to enter orbit. They'll be here soon."

Kurak clutched her elbow and turned her head, working her jaw as her gaze hardened.

"The girls have been studying. In my office," she said.

Troi nodded again, but instead of heading for the small corridor, she approached the console, casting her eyes over multiple screens displaying animated maps, scrolling data, and detailed representations of energy fields and wave formations the counselor couldn't begin to translate into useful sense.

"Any progress?" she asked.

Kurak bared her teeth.

"Not enough," she growled. "Not nearly enough! And time is running short."

She turned to look Troi in the eye.

"Do you, Riker and your captain truly intend to leave this place at the end of the week? To return to your ship without your second officer?"

"It's not like that," Troi said defensively. "The captain is concerned it might draw too much attention if we were to remain here with the _Enterprise._ But, that doesn't mean we won't be monitoring. This will remain a very active investigation. In fact, we'll be sending some of our top engineers and security personnel to—"

Kurak snarled and turned away.

Troi closed her eyes, taking a moment to let the Klingon's powerful emotions slap against her, then wash through.

"Kurak, we're doing the best we can," the Betazoid said. "All of us. But you must understand—"

"I _understand_ ," Kurak grunted. "Every Klingon _understands_ himself to be expendable, and easily replaced. I just did not realize the Federation's Starfleet harbored a similar attitude toward its officers."

Troi pursed her lips together, refusing to let the Klingon woman's bitter hurt seep into her own mind.

"I can't promise you we'll find him, Kurak," Troi said. "But, if Data is out there, and he's still functional, there's a very good chance he'll find us."

"Then, again, you leave it to the android to save himself. As you did following his kidnapping by the honorless raiders who attacked our compound!" Kurak snorted. "I may have been left unconscious by the attack, but Tu'Pari, Nat and Freja told me of the incident. And, I don't recall hearing of his Starfleet colleagues conducting any particularly concerted search efforts on his, or my child's, behalf."

"Sounds to me like you have it backwards," Troi said, standing up to the Klingon's cold glare. "At the time, we had no way of knowing if Data and Kay were still on the planet, or if they'd been transported off world. We _trusted_ Data to follow procedure; to learn the strengths, weaknesses, and motivations of his captors; and do all he could to return to us. Just as we trust him now. As for believing him expendable…!" Troi shook her head. "Absolutely not."

Kurak crossed her arms and lowered her ridged brow, her glare unwavering. Troi set her jaw and cast her a glare of her own.

"We all know Starfleet service involves risk," she said, her voice sharpening as she reflected some of the Klingon woman's hostility back at her. "As an officer, Data has always accepted that risk, just like the rest of us. That does not mean we consider him dispensable or expendable in any way. And, while others may have the training to carry out his duties aboard ship, we all believe Data, himself, to be irreplaceable. Not because he's an android. Data is a unique personality, same as any one of us, and we value that. He's our friend. Our family. We won't be giving up on him, and we won't stop looking for answers. No matter how long it takes."

Kurak stared for a moment longer, then lowered her gaze and drew in a slow, sharp breath.

"How is it, Counselor…" she said with some difficulty. "How is it that one soul can come to mean so much to so many…in so short a time…"

Troi moved closer, close enough to rest her hand on the Klingon's arm. Kurak glared at it until she pulled away, but she sensed the scientist's defenses were softening. That she was letting Troi's words get through.

"You mean as much to him," Troi told her. "You and Kay…and Ishta too."

Kurak swallowed and shook her head.

"I should know better by now than to hold out hope," she growled angrily. "The hope that we will find him...that anything will change... And yet…"

"If Data was drawn into the Preservers' stairway tunnel, or whatever it is," Troi said, "you can believe he will find a way to return. He's come back to us before, when we all thought he'd been lost. And now, he has more reason than ever to make his way home."

Kurak blinked a few times and sucked in her cheek. Troi smiled kindly and moved back, allowing her more space.

"Good luck with your analysis," she said.

Kurak grunted, returning her attention to her work. Troi watched her for a moment longer, her own heart caught in a troubling tangle of doubts and fears. Then, she turned and headed down the corridor, working to brace herself for her confrontation with Ishta.

But, when she got to the office, Ishta wasn't there. And, neither was Kahlestra.

 _To Be Continued..._

* * *

 _References include - TNG: Time's Arrow I/II; Contagion; The Most Toys; Tin Man; We'll Always Have Paris; Suspicions; Star Trek: First Contact._

 _Your comments are always welcome. Please review! :D  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hi everyone! I wanted to get this posted two days ago but, every time I sat down to write, something else came up and I kept getting interrupted and interrupted until I finally managed to sit down and finish the chapter today. LOL! Hope it doesn't sound as discombobulated as my brain felt while I was trying to write it out! Next up, a new chapter for Mr Mxyzptlk, which has also been in awkward stop-and-go progress this week. Thanks so much for reading, and for your awesome reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter! :D_

* * *

Chapter Four

"Ishta! Ishta will you slow down!" Kahlestra called over the rising wind. "My legs aren't as long as yours!"

The Orion girl stopped short and closed her eyes, letting the dry desert gusts pelt her face and arms with coarse sand.

"Where are we going, anyway?" the young Klingon said. "Or, did you even plan that far ahead when you ran out of my mother's lab like that?"

"Will you stop saying 'we'!" Ishta spun on the younger girl, her messy jet-black braid whipping behind her. "I didn't invite you. Go back to your homework before they notice you're gone!"

"Not without you," Kahlestra said with her most stubborn glare. " _Kahless_ , this sand really hurts. The wind's getting worse fast."

"That's fine with me. I want it to hurt," Ishta grunted. "More wind means no footprints, and no one will be dumb enough to follow me." She glared down at Kahlestra. "Except you."

"I'm not the one being dumb, Ishta!" Kahlestra retorted, already having to shout even though they were only a few feet apart. "You know Data wouldn't want you out here alone. He'd say—"

"I don't care what he'd say!" Ishta snapped. "He's not here. And I'm not going anywhere with that damn Fed social worker. You heard what that Betazoid shrink was saying back there."

"I don't want you to leave either," Kahlestra admitted. "But Counselor Troi's been working really hard to help you. Don't you want to stay in the Federation?"

"I don't care!" Ishta shrieked at the top of her lungs, turning her face toward the sky. "I don't care what happens! I'm not leaving here without Data."

"Ishta—"

"No!" she shouted. "I heard those Fed scientists talking. I heard Commander Riker and Captain Picard. None of them believe he's dead! They think he got sucked up into that stupid Stairway somehow, but after that big ground quake wrecked the tunnels they're all too scared to go find him! I'm not!"

She reached in the pocket of her jumper dress and pulled out a little data chip in a clear, protective case that she held in front of Kahlestra's face.

"What's that?" Kahlestra asked, shielding her eyes against the whirling wind and sand.

"The Vulcan found it. Down in the cavern when they couldn't find Data and that shape-changing intruder who caused all this mess. They said it's full of codes – the sounds we need to get that stupid Stairway working again!"

"You stole that?"

"You don't have to come," the Orion taunted, gripping the little data chip and shoving it back into her pocket. "If you're too much of a coward to—"

"I'm not a coward!" Kahlestra shouted. "But, I'm not stupid either. And this is stupid, Ishta! Data wouldn't want you to get yourself killed!"

"I told you, I don't care!" Ishta screamed. "Data may be brave and smart and know everything about school shit and starships, but he's a dreamer, Kay. A damn idiot dreamer, and dreamers don't last! They don't make it - I know, I've seen it again and again. That's why he needs me!"

Kahlestra squinted at the taller girl. The swirling wind was whipping her hair, blowing her long bangs over her flushed, green face, but there was a hitch in her voice, a silvery sheen to her deep blue eyes that she couldn't hide. She blinked hard and turned away, pretending to wipe sand from her face, but Kahlestra could see the tear tracks through the dust.

" _Kahless_ …" the Klingon muttered, and she sighed. "Look… This wind is really getting bad. It'll probably pass by pretty quick, but it's no good standing here getting our skin ripped off by all this sand! Let's wait it out with the horses, OK? Then, when the storm's over, I'll go to the Stairway with you. Maybe we'll find something the grown-ups didn't see."

"And that damn social worker?" Ishta demanded. "And the lawyer advocate whatever she's bringing with her?"

Kahlestra smirked.

"They can't take you if they can't find you. And I know plenty of places to hide. Come on!" she said, raising her arm to shield her eyes as she and Ishta raced for the stable – neither of them able to hear or see the lurching figure following them through the sandy haze…

* * *

The instant he got off bridge duty, Lt. Commander Michael Applewood dashed for the closest turbolift, on his way to Sickbay, where the captain had sent their 'impossible' guest for a thorough examination.

"Headed down to see your android friend, Commander?" the captain said.

Applewood paused at the sliding doors and turned to face her.

"Yes, sir," he said.

Captain Jhilli Zh'shrythaa stood and regarded her chief operations officer with a grim expression, her delicate blue antennae twitching over her feathery white hair. For a moment, Applewood held his breath, wondering if she would forbid the visit. Then, her antennae relaxed, and he felt his breathing start up again.

"All right, Mike," she said. "But, remember what we discussed. Until we know more, I don't want this android learning any more about our present time than he already has."

"I understand, Captain," Applewood assured her as he continued into the 'lift, adding "Thank you," just as the doors slid closed.

* * *

"Doc Nathan," Applewood said as he walked into the CMO's office. "How did it go with Commander Data? Did the tests come out all right?

Dr. Nathan Birnbaum greeted the commander with a smile, but Applewood saw a shadow of concern in the old man's crinkled eyes.

"Your android friend is marvelous, Commander," the doctor told him. "That's just what he is – nothing short of a marvel! In fact, that's a good part of the trouble. The way those incredible programs can so closely mimic human systems...affect his physiognomy…"

"What do you mean?"

"It's to do with how he says he traveled here, to this time," the doctor explained. "On the one hand, our scans do seem to confirm the android's story – that he arrived here by passing through a quantum tunnel. But, the physical effects of such travel…without any proper shielding or prior processing of his molecular structure and brain patterns to fit in with our time period…" He shrugged and shook his head. "Well, that's something I can't really help him with. He'll just have to wait out the symptoms I'm afraid, and even then his subatomic particles may never resonate at the same frequency as ours. Unless we find a way to send him back to his own time frame, he'll always be slightly out of tune with our reality."

"Out of tune?" Applewood repeated and furrowed his brow. "Symptoms? Look, Doc, is Data all right or not? Can I see him?"

"Hm? Oh, of course, Commander. Of course," the old man said, taking Applewood's arm as he led him to one of several small, private rooms just off the main infirmary. "Your friend is in here. I'm sure he'll be mighty glad to see you."

Applewood frowned thoughtfully, but brightened up his expression when he saw Data sitting on the medical cot surrounded by holotablets and floating screens, all covered with rapidly scrolling information. A surreal sensation washed over him, and he shivered just a little.

"Hey, Data," he said, walking into the room. "Whoa… You know, seeing you here, on that cot… It's kinda like déjà vu, but in reverse."

"I acknowledge the irony," Data said and laughed. Pulling a pair of listening devices from his ears, he jumped up to greet the slightly taller man with a broad, proud smile. "Hello, Mikey! Or, should I say Commander Applewood?"

"It's Mikey to you, Data," the man said warmly, running his gaze over the android's face, his amber eyes, his dark hair. Data seemed rather pale, the lines around his eyes and mouth a little deeper than he remembered, but he didn't notice anything particularly concerning. "How are you feeling?"

"Troubled," the android admitted, sitting back down on the cluttered cot. "Displaced. Anxious. Frustrated. Frightened, of course. But mostly, I am feeling desperately curious. About you. About this future world in which I've so unexpectedly found myself."

He gestured to the dozens of holographic screens and windows floating around his bed. Applewood noticed, with some curiosity of his own, that much of the information displayed there seemed to be about ancient and classical Klingon literature, music, artwork, and poetry.

"I have been taking advantage of my time in this room to catch up on some personal research," Data explained. "Unfortunately, I have had to confine my searches to...older documents. It seems your captain has taken the precaution of blocking my access to records dated after my…disappearance."

"You'd do the same if the situation were reversed," Applewood said. "Knowledge of the future can be a dangerous thing."

"Indeed," Data said, aiming a wry smirk at his guest and the futuristic technology all around them. Applewood snorted a little.

"Yeah, well, you know what I mean," he said.

"Of course," Data said. "And, you need not worry about me taking advantage of my android nature to 'hack' the system, as it were. I gave my word that I would behave myself. Still, it is enormously frustrating to find one's curiosity blocked in this fashion. Can I presume the doctor has 'filled you in' on my...situation?"

"Just hints," Applewood said, grabbing a stool and scooting closer to the bed. "It's so strange to see you like this, Data, after all this time. You really do look just like I remember you. Though…maybe not quite as tall…"

Data smiled.

"My height has not altered since the day of my initial activation," he said. "But, you have changed quite a bit. I can barely express how pleased I am to see you so well." He took the man's hand and gave it a warm squeeze, his lips twitching upward as he made quick note of the ring he wore, and several other telling details. Looking in to Mikey's eyes, he asked, "Are you happy, my friend?"

Applewood chuckled and returned the squeeze before letting go and leaning back on the stool. "I suppose I am," he said. "I've had a pretty good career so far…and more." He sighed. "I wish I could tell you everything that's happened, Data. There's so much I'd love to show you…so many people I want you to meet! People I know are dying to meet you…"

"But, you have your orders," Data acknowledged. "For now, I am to be kept 'in the dark' regarding future events until a way can be found to return me to my own time. Meanwhile…"

"Meanwhile, here we are," Applewood said. "We're the same rank now, you and me. Though, I think I might actually be older than you were when we met. Quite a bit older. What were you then, thirty-four? Thirty-five?"

"How old are you?" Data asked.

"Uh uh. No clues," Applewood said, and the android snorted.

"I do not see the harm in letting me at least know what year I've come to," he grumbled. "We once had a visit from a time traveler back on the _Enterprise-D_ , and he _— Ooh, agghaa_ …" Data gasped and doubled over on the cot. "Oh, not again…"

"Data? What is it? Oh god, Data, are you OK?" Applewood exclaimed. "Doctor!"

"No…no, it is passing," Data gasped, his ragged breathing starting to slow. "And I am certain your Doc Nathan has set the ship's computer to track every subatomic fluctuation rippling through my molecules."

The android looked up, and Applewood was stunned to see several stands of gray shining in his dark hair. Gray he knew hadn't been there just moments before. The android's face looked different too…slightly older, rounder…

"Quantum fluctuations…" Applewood realized. "Oh, no… Data…"

"It is as the doctor said," Data told him. "I am out of synch with your reality. Apparently, I will continue to age in waves, like this, until my quantum resonance pattern aligns with that of this time…at which point, I will appear to be the same physical age I would have been had I not hopped forward through that quantum tunnel, and instead lived through the past thirty-odd years."

"That'll put you somewhere in your late sixties," Applewood said, doing some quick math in his head.

"It is my own fault," Data said with some humor. "When I upgraded to this new skin, I neglected to deactivate my aging program. Still, it will be a curious experience. To know what it is to age… To see myself as an older man…" He smiled. "Is that not a fundamental facet of the human condition?"

"Can you deactivate the program now?" Applewood asked. "Stop this effect before it goes any further?"

"No. It would be like trying to halt the ripples in a pond," Data said, rather poetically. "To prevent these symptoms, I would have had to deactivate my aging program _before_ I entered the Stairway. And, even then, there would have been some physical effects. My systems are not completely immune to the passage of time, after all."

"What if we were to find a way to send you back in time?" Applewood asked. "Would the effects reverse themselves?"

"I would hope so," Data said. "But, it would depend on the manner of my return. It was my exposure to the unshielded forces within the quantum tunnel that affected me in this way. It is likely that, to reverse the effects, I would have to return the same way I came."

Commander Applewood narrowed his eyes.

"We're a pretty long way from Nineveh IV," he said. "And, I don't just mean physically. A lot has happened that you don't know about."

"I am intensely aware of that," Data said. "It is a primary reason for my frustration! That, and my confinement in this small space. As my name indicates, my function is to gather and interpret information. It is difficult enough finding myself so far displaced from my own time…from all that I…" He shook his head and closed his eyes, as if swallowing back a sudden pain. Straightening up, he said, "I do not like being 'left out of the loop' like this. Denied access to the answers I seek. In addition…"

He pursed his lips and flicked his amber eyes toward the door, as if concerned about being overheard. Leaning forward he said, "Mikey."

"Yes, Data?"

"I have been withholding some information of my own," the android confessed.

Applewood frowned. "Data—"

"Only because I worried that what I have to say might make me appear less credible to your captain," Data hurried to explain. "Admittedly, we have had only brief contact. But, from what I have observed, she seems a rather…stern…individual. Not exactly given to leaps of imagination."

Applewood rubbed his chin, smirking behind his hand.

"Maybe she can be a little…let's say 'inflexible' at times," he admitted. "But, she's a brilliant strategist, Data. One of the sharpest tacticians I've ever come across. That's meant a lot to us."

Data filed that comment away with a thoughtful nod.

"And you, Mikey?" he asked. "Would you trust that the story I have to tell is true? No matter how outlandish it may sound to you?"

"More outlandish than your sudden appearance on this ship? More outlandish than what's happening to you?" Applewood smiled dryly and shook his head. "Data, you appeared on the bridge this morning looking like a man in your early thirties. Before my eyes, I've seen you age about ten years. And, if Doc Nathan's tests are right, by tonight you'll probably look about seventy. Whatever you have to tell me, how could it possibly be stranger or more impossible to believe than that?"

"You make a very good point," Data said, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Very well, I shall tell you."

He moved closer and leaned forward, lowering his voice to a near whisper.

"I believe my arrival here was not an accident," he said, his amber eyes wide and earnest. "I encountered a being while inside that quantum tunnel. A transdimensional entity, possibly a descendent of the Preserver species. It directed me to the portal that led me here. To this time. This ship. To you, Mikey."

"Directed you…how?" Applewood asked, squinting his eyes.

"There were no words. Not as we understand them," Data said. "Only impressions. Impressions I found I could translate. When I told the entity I wished to return to my own place in time, it surrounded me like…like a pulsing membrane. I felt myself moving, climbing the Stairway under its direction. I regained control only after I found myself here. On your bridge."

Applewood lifted his eyebrows and drew in a long breath.

"The entity you describe…it didn't come here with you, did it? That is, you're not still—"

"No, no, the entity is gone," Data assured him. "Every scan and diagnostic has confirmed my systems are functioning within normal parameters, even given the…discomfiting…quantum fluctuations that have afflicted me since I came to your time. But, Mikey," he said. "That being knew what I was asking. It knew where and when I belonged, yet it chose to send me here."

"Any idea why?" Applewood asked.

Data regarded him, his expression somber.

"It is my function to gather and interpret information," he said. "The entity reminded me of that in the moment before I felt its influence fade from my mind. There is something here that it wants me to know. Something I must find out and bring with me once I have discovered a way to return home, to my time. I understand your captain's reluctance to allow me access to 'future knowledge.' But if I—"

A yellow light began flashing in the corner of the holographic wall panel beside the android's medical cot. Before either of them could do much more than blink, a voice burst from Applewood's commlink. A voice Data recognized as that of the ship's first officer, Commander Lennie Hugo.

"Commander Applewood, report to the bridge."

"Acknowledged," Applewood said and stood, looking rather torn.

"Go," Data told him. "We can talk later, once whatever crisis has arisen has been resolved."

Applewood nodded and turned to go, only to stop short when Data said, "Please give my best regards to your wife, Keleea Dod. And to your children, Sean and Lidzi."

"How the hell—!" he exclaimed, spinning on the android. "I thought you promised you wouldn't hack—"

"I did not break my word," Data said, looking rather smug as he sat back on the medicot. "It was a matter of simple observation. Well…perhaps not that simple."

"Data…" Applewood advanced on him.

"Your ring," the android explained. "It is inscribed with your wife's name. The names of your children appear to have been added later. Do you wish me to tell you more of what I've learned about you and your colleagues so far?"

Applewood narrowed his eyes.

"OK, Data, you've made your point," he said, and shook his head. "I'll talk to the captain about letting you out of here. But computer access is another story. I—"

"I am willing to take things 'one step at a time'," Data said. "And I do not wish to keep you during a yellow alert situation. But, if you could please inform your captain that I would like meet with her? I believe we have a great deal to discuss."

"I'll do it, Data," Applewood said. "And I'll be back, I promise. As soon as I can. I don't want you going through these quantum fluctuations on your own."

"Your concern is most appreciated, my friend," Data said, his amber eyes warm. "Thank you."

Applewood gave the android's hand a firm squeeze, then turned and strode out of the room, practically jogging as he made his way back to the bridge.

 _To Be Continued..._

* * *

 _References include - TNG: We'll Always Have Paris; A Matter of Time; Inheritance (mentions Data's aging program); Elementary Dear Data; Ship in a Bottle; TOS: All Our Yesterdays. Nathan Birnbaum is George Burns's real name, and a sort of peripheral reference to the humpback whales George and Gracie from the original crew's time traveling adventure in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. Also, when I was trying to imagine what the doctor might look like, for whatever reason (maybe the whales) I kept getting a picture of George Burns in my mind, so I just went with it. LOL! :)  
_

 _Your comments and reviews are always welcome! Thank you! :D  
_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Nat Kapoor sighed and leaned back in his chair, away from the console's glowing screens. The archaeologists' main control room seemed a hive of concentration – his colleagues Tu'Pari and Freja Anders working busily alongside their Starfleet visitors Picard and Riker. But Nat could sense an unspoken tension simmering just beneath the surface. A tension the impatient human felt compelled to voice.

"So, what are we supposed to do after you ditch us?" he said, swiveling his chair to face the Starfleet officers.

"Come on, Nat," Riker said. "You know that's not—"

Nat waved his words away. "Don't give me that," he said. "Your ship's due to arrive here in two days. And then, what? You just leave us here as sitting ducks for the next violent creep who decides to raid our site?"

"Nat…" Freja winced, weaving her long, blonde braid between her fingers. "Please, let's not—" But, Nat was too agitated to listen.

"Look," he said. "I get it, OK? Their visit to our dig was only meant to be a two-week shore leave. And under normal circumstances I'd be glad to say thanks and good-bye. But, these circumstances aren't normal!"

The archaeologist stood, fixing his dark-eyed glare on Picard.

"We've made some deeply significant discoveries here, and I'll be the first to acknowledge how much of that progress is due to you and the android, Mr. Data. But," he said angrily, "we've also been attacked – repeatedly! In just the past week, we've been terrorized, had our camp infiltrated, our people kidnapped and impersonated, our data hacked by a chameleon spy! One of our colleagues – our friends – was murdered in a raid by some goddammed smuggling ring, you've lost your android officer. We only have vague theories as to who's behind any of this or why… And your plan is to zip away in your starship and leave us to it!"

"We already told you," Riker said. "Security officers will be—"

"More strangers," Nat snapped, kicking his chair in frustration. Freja looked away and shook her head. "More prying eyes! Tu'Pari!" he exclaimed, and strode over to his colleague's station, where the Vulcan scientist had kept working with unbroken focus despite Nat's outburst. "Please tell me you've found something that can get this floundering kerfuffle of an expedition back on track!"

Tu'Pari's composed expression didn't waver as he said, "If you mean to inquire whether the energy source beneath the Stairway remains active, or whether we will be able to reopen the quantum tunnel to attempt to recover Commander Data, I won't have a definitive answer until Kurak submits her analysis. I have, however, made an unrelated, yet significant, discovery regarding the robot Howard."

"Howard?" Picard furrowed his brow and leaned in closer to the Vulcan's work station. "What do you mean?"

Tu'Pari indicated his busy screen, moving his chair a bit to offer the captain and the others a clearer view.

"As you know, Howard – the Orion-manufactured HDD-421 Series duotronic robot Commander Data recovered when he rescued the three kidnapped children from the smugglers – was damaged aiding Dr. Anders, Counselor Troi, and Kurak's escape from the chameleon spy's ship," Tu'Pari stated in his flat, matter-of-fact way. "As Commander Data is currently…missing… I volunteered to enact the necessary repairs. It was while I was running a final diagnostic that I came across this foreign object lodged at the base of Howard's skull."

Picard frowned. "That looks like…"

"A spybot!" Freja finished, her eyes wide. "But, Howard was fully scanned when he arrived at our compound. How did we miss—"

"Embedding the device at the base of the robot's brain would effectively shield its components and any electronic activity from our sensors," Tu'Pari explained. "Fortunately, the device has not been activated. Howard, himself, was completely unaware of its existence. Given these observations, I believe it would not be an illogical inference to presume the smugglers intended to activate the spybot only after Howard had been purchased and begun his domestic duties inside the new owner's home."

"How horrible! Poor Howard, to be used like that!" Freja said, but Nat snorted.

"So, what's the big deal?" he said. "If the spybot was never activated, it hasn't been storing up our conversations at research data, right? Just destroy the thing and—"

"I don't believe destroying the spybot would be the most prudent course of action," Tu'Pari said calmly. "A covert device like this is designed, not just to collect and encode data, but also to transmit that encoded information."

"Yes, I understand," Picard said approvingly. "You think we can use the spybot to identify where that stolen data would have been sent. Perhaps, pinpoint the location of the smuggling ring behind these attacks?"

"If not their primary headquarters, then at least another active outpost," Tu'Pari said. "It might give us an idea just how widespread this operation is."

"Excellent work," Picard praised. "How might we assist—"

The doors to the control room slid open and Troi and Kurak rushed into the room, their faces flushed and their hair and clothes disheveled from the turbulent winds outside the dome.

"Counselor," Picard started, but Kurak cut him off with a frustrated snarl.

"Ishta has run off. With my daughter," the Klingon announced, and Picard swore under his breath.

"There's a sandstorm outside," Troi reported, shaking out her hair and batting dust and sand from her jacket with her hands. "It's starting to ease up, but it's been interfering with scans and communications. We couldn't get through until now."

"How long have the kids been missing?" Riker asked.

"At least half an hour," Kurak said angrily. "I have no doubt Ishta instigated this. She has repeatedly threatened to run rather than face the social worker the Federation has dispatched. She refuses to leave this planet until Commander Data has been found."

Troi took in a slow breath through her nose, trying to let the Klingon's buffeting waves of aggravation and worry wash through her mind.

"Both the social worker and legal advocate are due to arrive within the next few hours," she told the group. "They've already secured permission to beam down, but the sandstorm may delay them."

"Headstrong fool," Kurak snarled, showing her teeth. "Kahlestra should have known better than to follow the lead of that—!"

"We'll find them, Kurak," Troi tried to assure her, but the Klingon shrugged her off.

"Don't touch me, Counselor," she warned. "I told you, I have no need for platitudes. Only action." Striding toward the central controls she said, "The sandstorm will have slowed them down, forced them to seek shelter. It's possible they have not yet left the compound. We must scan—"

"Kurak," Tu'Pari called, busily tapping at his console's control panel. "I believe I may have found them."

"Where are they?" Freja asked, leaning over the Vulcan's shoulder.

"There is still a great deal of interference," Tu'Pari said, "but I am detecting two life signs, apparently moving in the direction of the Stairway."

"Yeah, and at a pretty good clip," Riker observed.

"Damn," Kurak snarled and slammed her hand against the table. "They have taken the speeder. We cannot follow on horseback until the winds die down! If those two—"

"Three," Tu'Pari corrected, and looked up at the group, one sharp eyebrow raised. "It would seem Ishta and Kahlestra are not alone."

* * *

"Slow down, Ishta!" Kahlestra exclaimed, gripping her seat so hard her knuckles turned pale. "I thought you said you knew how to drive this thing!"

"So, I'm learning as I go," Ishta snapped, wincing as the speeder shuddered and bumped through a particularly rough patch of stormy turbulence. Coarse sand buffeted the hull and windows like hail, the swirling wind pushing and pulling at the vehicle like a strong current drawing a small canoe through the rapids.

"By Kahless!" the young Klingon swore. "I am not prepared to die today! Howard, do you know how to pilot a speeder?"

Howard had followed the girls to the stables, the sudden appearance of his lumbering form through the shrieking winds giving them both a terrible fright. Ishta had been furious, but Kahlestra found his presence reassuring. Howard wasn't Data – not by any means – but he did serve as Data's representative, in a way.

"I am Howard, your helpful Home Domestic Droid," Howard said in his chipper-announcer voice. "Master Data ordered me to keep you safe. How may I serve you?"

"You can serve me by getting the hell up here and taking the controls!" Kahlestra said, squeezing her way into the back seat as Howard lumbered awkwardly to take her place in the front.

"I don't need help from that damn robot," Ishta snarled. "I know what I'm doing!"

"Do you know how to shut up?" Kahlestra snapped back. "I've listened to you enough today. I'm not about to let you wreck this speeder!"

"I'm not going back to the compound," Ishta shouted. "You can't make me!"

"We're not going back, you idiot!" Kahlestra said. "We're going to the Stairway, just like you said!"

"Then let me—"

"No!" Kahlestra exclaimed angrily. "We can't find Data if we crash and die! Howard," she said, "can you get us to the Stairway entrance?"

"Please stand by," Howard said in his cheery way.

"Please stand by?" Ishta repeated. "What the hell does that mean!"

"Please stand by," Howard said again, and Kahlestra let out a frustrated cry, the speeder shaking and juddering all around them.

The robot seemed to be taking his time staring at the blinking controls. Ishta risked a glance at him, then a longer one.

"Howard?" the young Orion demanded. "Howard, can you drive this thing or not?"

"Processing complete," the robot said, and activated the co-pilot's console, his silvery-green fingers tapping efficiently at the controls. "I am Howard. I am here to keep you safe."

"He can drive it!" Kahlestra cheered from the back, the jostling becoming a little less tooth-rattling as their course evened out.

"Look," Ishta said, her attention fixed on the window now that she didn't have to concentrate on figuring out the controls. "That lump – that's the entrance to the tunnels. It's all blocked up by sand!"

"No way can we dig that out. Even with Howard," Kahlestra said grimly.

"Is there any other way in?" Ishta asked, shifting her position to kneel on her seat.

"That's the main one," Kahlestra said, "but there could be a back or side way. Howard, take us around the Stairway. Look for anything that could be an entrance."

As they came around the far side of the vast structure, the wind seemed to die down almost completely.

"This must be the lee of the structure," Kahlestra said. "The side that's protected from the wind. Howard, stop the speeder here. Let's see if we can find a way in!"

"Since when are you in charge?" Ishta challenged as the robot parked up close against the sand-colored bricks.

"Since I spent all summer exploring this site and you've only been here, like, a week," Kahlestra countered, opening the door and hopping out into the deep, rough sand. "Come on, let's look around! The sandstorm's still roaring on the other side, but I think it's starting to lessen up a bit. If we move fast, we might still be able get back before my mother and the rest realize we're gone."

"Hey, there's some steps," Ishta said, not bothering to wait for Howard to catch up as she jumped out of the speeder and raced across the sand. "They kind of zig zag up to that landing. Maybe we can find a way in up there!"

"Worth a try," Kahlestra said. "Do you still have that data chip thing with the codes?"

"Right here," Ishta said, reaching into her pocket and holding up the narrow device. "And I brought a padd too, to play the file."

"Good. Howard," Kahlestra ordered, "you say here and guard the speeder, OK? We'll be back in a few minutes."

"It is my function to keep you safe," Howard said, his cheery voice seeming to hold a hint of protest.

"You can keep us safe by making sure nothing happens to our ride back home," Kahlestra told him firmly, already following Ishta up the brick staircase. The steps were very narrow and so tall the girls had to climb their way up with their hands as well as their legs. "Besides," Kahlestra called back to the robot, "you wouldn't be able to make it up these stairs!"

It was true. Howard wasn't exactly bulky, but he wasn't nimble either. Try as he might, he couldn't manage to scrape and scramble his way up to the first high step, and neither girl climbed back down to lend a hand. Defeated, the robot returned to the speeder, standing still, like a sentry, his glowing gaze fixed on the girls as they climbed.

The landing was much higher in reality than it had looked from the ground. Ishta inched cautiously forward, keeping one hand pressed against the sandy brick wall, until she felt—

"A crack? No… Kay!" she exclaimed. "Kay, look at this. I think I found a door!"

"Whoa, it's totally camouflaged," Kahlestra said, feeling the subtle crack in the wall for herself. "Do you see any way to open it?"

"There's no panel, or even an old-fashioned keyhole," Ishta said, giving the bricks a tentative push, then a harder one. "I can't tell if it slides open or what."

Kahlestra glanced up at her. "Think we should try the codes?"

Ishta's uncertain eyes took on a mischievous gleam, and she plugged the little device into the padd.

"OK, I found the file," she said. "Ready?"

"Go for it," Kahlestra said, staring at the wall.

Ishta pressed her finger to the padd. A jumble of noises – a garble of singing, half-audible voices, and static interference – sounded, and Ishta quickly turned the volume up to maximum.

"Nothing's happening," Kahlestra said after a moment. "Maybe we should head back to—"

The landing rumbled beneath their feet, sand and dust cascaded from the looming brick structures high above. The girls shrieked and pressed close against the rough bricks…only to gasp as the camouflaged door receded into the wall, then slid to the side, revealing a dark, rectangular opening.

A cold, musty smell hit them, and they shared a wide-eyed look, inching closer as the rumbling faded away.

"Looks like a way in," Kahlestra said, her voice echoing in the dark space.

"After you?" Ishta challenged.

Kahlestra shot her a look. "Just a second," she said, scrambling past the taller Orion to grab a broken chunk of ruined brick and jam it against the opening. "Grab some more bricks," she said. "This should help keep the door from closing all the way. You know, just in case…"

"Yeah," Ishta said, and shoved a few heavier chunks into place with her feet. "OK," she said, brushing the sand and grit from her hands. "Let's go."

 _To Be Continued…_

* * *

 _References include -_ _TNG: Suspicions.  
_

Sorry for taking so very long to update this story! So much going on! But, thank you so much for the nudge to get me working on it again. I hope you liked this chapter! :D

Next Time: What will Kay and Ishta find _inside_ the Stairway? What must Data learn in the future? Stay Tuned, and Please Review! :D


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